The patisserie was close—I could smell it.

Entering with my stroller, I passed the bread counter and was bombarded with cookies! Round cookies, colored cookies, pressed cookies, marzipan-filled cookies—which ones should I bring to a friend’s house?

"Say ‘shukran,’ honey," I whispered.

My two-year old, new lollipop in hand, looked at me out of the corner of her eye.

"Shukran."

The Moroccan shop owner burst into a smile, scooped the little girl up and kissed her face.